Atoning for their Sins
by CornerPocket
Summary: Xylona Prince was born into a family that is rooted in secrets and terrible decisions. Discovering that she is a witch, the heir to a seemingly dead and notorious Pureblood line, and the niece of a deceased war hero, she struggles to find her place at Hogwarts while dealing with the repercussions of their decisions. Will history repeat itself, or can she change it for the better?


A/N: I wanted to write a plausible canon-compliant story (well, at least it can't be disproven by Harry Potter books 1-7, or Rowlings official content.) I will be ignoring the Cursed Child though because I would rather not acknowledge its existence.

I obviously don't own Harry Potter or any character associated with J.K. Rowling's published works.

* * *

Prologue: Part 1

May 18th, 1977

Spring had come late this year. The drizzly wet and cold of winter had overstayed its welcome by several weeks and had only relented the week before. In the week of sun and agreeable weather, the earth finally had a chance to soak up the endless rain of the previous season and the ground was now overflowing with life. She could practically see the grass and weeds growing from the kitchen window as she washed the dishes.

She would have to mow the lawn soon with that rusty old contraption from their crumbling shed as her husband had yet to show any inclination that he would take care of the rapidly growing jungle that was their backyard. In the middle of winter, he had boasted about his plans to upkeep the lawn this summer amongst other things because he was "really turning over a new leaf" and "finally get himself a stable job."

And she had smiled at him.

Like she did every time Tobias promised to stay sober.

Logically, she had given up on that ever happening, but the poisonous sensation of hope always kept her yearning for a promise that would never be fulfilled.

To her credit, he had stayed sober for an entire month. Those weeks were quiet, even blissful. No late night returns from the bar, no cursing, no angry fists aiming for her face. He had even begun to use his charm on her again and she was reminded of the man she had married long ago. And, as usual, she had fallen in love with him again…

And because of her stupidity, she was now in a terrible predicament.

Eileen set down the last dish onto the drying rack but continued to stare out the window, wanting nothing more than to be the blackbird that had taken off from the garden and into the beautiful blue sky. Like many times before, her instincts were telling her to fly; to leave Spinner's End and never look back.

But that damned voice of logic had once again reminded her that she had nowhere to go and no money to take with her. Several times she had thought to run, on her own or with her son - who had also been a victim of Tobias' drunken rants and loathing for magic- but her logic and pride always convinced her to stay. Poor and disowned, she was a shell of the former heir of the Prince family that she had once been. She knew they would laugh in amusement at her endless cycle of torment; they had warned her about choosing to marry a Muggle, and she would never give them the satisfaction by begging to come back.

Eileen sighed, the urge to flee would pass, as it always did. In fact, she hadn't felt them as often in the past six or so years; her son was in Hogwarts now. He was safe from his horrible father and his spineless mother.

She wondered how much the urge would come back now that…

With the sharp creak and slam of the front door, she knew her husband had arrived home from the bar, as he had once again lost his latest job at the nearby petrol station. And judging by the racket he was making as he stumbled around in the front room, he had drunk away the last of his final paycheck. He flopped down in his favorite recliner, the rusty groan of its ancient springs could be heard from her place in the kitchen.

"E-Eileen!" he hiccupped from his favorite spot. "Whereiz the telly remote?"

"On the side table, Tobias," she said in a flat tone. The voice she always used when her dear husband was drunk. Despite the fact that several parts of their home desperately needed repairs, he had gone out last month and purchased a brand new telly, one with colored pictures and a device that could change the volume and channel with a small rectangle that could change the volume and channel from a distance...At least he hadn't spent it on more beer.

"Eileen!" Tobias shouted over the fuzzy voices of the sports station on the television.

"Yes?"

"Iz dinner ready?"

"Not yet."

"Why not?!" he roared, his drunken slur nearly evaporated with his anger.

"Because it's four o'clock, Tobias. You're usually not home until six," she said rationally. Over the past twenty years of marriage, she learned that speaking rationally to her husband during these moments would calm him down most of the time. Eileen believed she had spared she and her son several bouts of the man's physical violence.

But not all of the time.

She could hear her husband bolt out of his chair and down the hall. Normally she would stand perfectly still and face his rage head-on and allow him to slap her around a few times before he wore himself out; the less she fought, the quicker it ended.

However, this time she faced away, hugging herself tightly. This time she wasn't the only one in the line of fire. Not when she had a life growing inside her as quickly as the spring flora outside. She instinctively wanted to protect them.

"What? Not going to look me in the eye, woman?!" her husband's booze-laden breath crawled across the back of her neck as he spoke. Eileen froze. She wouldn't turn around this time.

She saw stars when he landed a sloppy blow to the back of her head. She fell to her knees but was able to catch herself from landing flat on the floor.

"I said look at me. LOOK AT ME AND TELL ME WHY DINNER E'INT READY!"This time he landed a sharp kick to her hip. Significantly more painful than his first hit, Eileen collapsed to her side. She barely managed to curl into the fetal position before he landed another heavy kick towards her abdomen,, bruising her knees in the process.

"Tobias stop!" she cried out. This did cause him to pause, as she had not spoken against him in years. Long ago she had stopped shouting and hitting back.

"I'm...I'm pregnant. Please, you'll harm the child!"

"I-Impossible," he stuttered, his slur returning. "Yer too old f-ferdat."

"Improbable. Not impossible." Eileen hissed through her pain. It was partially true though, she was a fair bit older than when most women had children. She and Tobias were both older now, perhaps even older looking than their peers of similar ages; they both had more grey than the color on their heads and their skin had begun to grow fine and more wrinkled, years of stress had certainly taken their toll on them both. She had certainly been surprised when she first started having the familiar bouts of morning sickness.

They stared at each other in uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Eileen cautiously sat up, gazing into the hazy blue eyes of her inebriated husband as he attempted to wrap his head around the situation. He had been elated the last time she had told him she was pregnant, but that had been ages ago before things had gone horribly sour. She knew there would be no celebration this time.

"It's probably another freakish child. Only something with as much hocus-pocus as you could survive in your old body. I will not raise another one under my roof...I'll do us both a favor," he said darkly, his voice was far soberer than his usual fits of rage.

For the first time in many years, Eileen was terrified.

Tobias reached out for her. She didn't know what his twisted mind was thinking and she didn't want to know. Eileen closed her eyes and she screamed.

There was a blinding flash and a resounding bang, then a softer thud. She waited for something else to happen. She heard nothing; only the distant sound of the telly and the neighbors' dog barking. Terrified, she opened her eyes.

Despite sounding like a bomb going off, everything in the kitchen was intact. Nothing was out of place, with the exception of her husband's body laying directly in front of her. Blood pooled from the back of his head and a small amount trickled down from the corner of the kitchen counter. It appeared as though something had pushed him back and he had fallen back and hit his head on the counter.

Attempting to gather her scattered thoughts, she checked for a pulse. He had no heartbeat.

She had killed her husband. Even worse, she had killed him with accidental magic.

Shaking, she stood up and dusted herself off. She hadn't performed magic since her son was a small child, and it had been even longer since she had used accidental magic. Accidental magic was something that children did when they couldn't control their emotions, and here she was, a middle-aged woman, causing a deadly explosion without a wand.

An explosion that had probably been heard by the entire neighborhood.

Though Spinner's End was a seedy neighborhood with plenty of unreported crimes, a gunshot-like explosion was bound to draw enough attention for the police to be called. While she may be able to fool the Muggle police that it was an accident, but if the Ministry of Magic caught wind of the situation…

She had to act fast.

She scrambled out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedroom. Practically jumping into the tiny closet, Eileen fumbled through a few shoe boxes, grabbing the box at the bottom of the stack, she ripped open the lid and pulled out her wand.

Dragon heartstring and black walnut, eleven inches even. She hadn't touched it in years, and it hardly worked for her in the few times that she had while living in Spinner's End. For the first time since renouncing her magical life, her wand buzzed with the warmth of her magic - it was ready to perform.

With a few flicks, she summoned her small suitcase and a few pairs of clothes. With another wave, her few remaining magical trinkets followed her clothes into the suitcase. Within a minute, all she needed was packed neatly. She allowed herself a small smile, she had forgotten how quickly magic could get things done.

Hurrying back down the stairs, she returned to the kitchen. Now she had to figure out what to the with the body. She could vanish it and the blood and then disappear without a trace, but that would probably raise suspicion with both the police and aurors. No, she had to give them no reason to go looking for her, Eileen Snape had to be off their radar completely. In order to do that she had to be a little more cunning.

Grabbing a small fistful of her own hair, she yanked, pulling a clump of hair from its roots. She carefully placed it on the kitchen floor near her husband. Taking a deep breath, she cast one of the most complex Transfiguration spells that she knew, then stood back to admire her handiwork. On the floor in front of her husband, lay an exact replica of her own body, something she could proudly say that most wizards couldn't do -she had gotten an O in her Transfiguration N.E.W.T., after all. Now she just needed the finishing touches.

Biting her lip, she summoned her husband's handgun from its hiding place in the side table drawer in the hall. The small pistol was surprisingly heavy in her hand. Surrounding herself with a silencing charm, she shot the faux Eileen in the head at point-blank range. The transfigured body managed to hold its form...it even bled from the wound. Yes, Eileen was quite proud of her skills despite being so rusty. It probably wasn't a perfect crime-scene replica, but she doubted the police would look too closely into it. A domestic dispute gone wrong in an area like Spinner's End sadly wasn't unheard of. Even her son wouldn't be suspicious and most likely take it at face value.

She felt a pang of guilt at the thought of her son. She was going to be dead to both the Muggle and magical worlds, and that included her first born. But Severus was legally an adult now and was quick-witted and fiercely independent - even if she were alive, she knew he wouldn't have returned to Spinner's End for the summer holiday. She knew it was the last place he wanted to be, and it was the last place _she_ wanted him to be. He resented both her and Tobias for the years of abuse and negligence; in his eyes, she was probably already dead to him. As much as it broke her heart, she knew it was best for both for them if the life of Eileen Snape ended on the linoleum floor of a decaying house.

Holding back tears, she was just placing the handgun into her husband's hand when the sound of police sirens roared down the street, fast approaching their drive. With a final glance at the walls that contained her years of torment and suffering, Eileen turned on the spot, disappearing long before the officers knocked on the door.

* * *

May 19th, 1977

Eileen sat on the sandy beach of Talacre, Wales, staring at the distant lighthouse as the sun slowly rose over the horizon. She chose this place randomly from a map she had found at a shop in Bristol.

She had spent the entire night forming a plan in between bouts of crying. It wasn't impossible to get a muggle job with a little magically faked paperwork and a few confundus charms, but finding a place to live and eventual childcare would be much more difficult. The whole operation seemed daunting, but there was no going back now. She was completely on her own for the first time in her life. But she was a Prince, and once a Prince made a decision, they would see it through to the end.

She pondered upon her old maiden name; she may have been disowned years ago, but she still held a sense of pride in her ancient heritage. The surname Prince wasn't unheard of in the Muggle world. No one would think twice if she used it, but she supposed using the name Eileen Prince was a little too bold. She would feel a bit more comfortable with a new first name.

She went down the alphabet, drawing names off the top of her head, but none of them seemed to fit. She spent more time on the "L's" as she had always been fond of "L" names. She supposed Lila (which would have been Severus' name had he been a girl) or Lucy would work. Didn't Severus' little red-headed friend have a name starting with that letter? Something floral? Lilac? Lily? Yes, she was almost certain it was Lily. Eileen huffed in annoyance; she was certainly no Lily. However, she could tweak it slightly.

The sun had fully risen over the horizon, bathing the beach in a golden glow. Standing up, the battered woman gingerly picked up her suitcase and inhaled the deep and salty air.

At that moment Lilith Prince was born.

* * *

May 20th, 1977

Severus Snape received a letter that morning during breakfast from the Ministry of Magic which announced the death of both of his parents. Despite the earth-shattering news, Severus hardly blinked; he was a Slytherin after all and needed to maintain a cool demeanor in front of all of his peers and teachers.

He honestly wasn't too surprised at the revelation; he knew one day his father would take his violence too far and end up killing his mother, but at least fate had decided to take him with her. Horrible bastard.

A bitter taste suddenly filled his mouth as chills wracked down his spine. Pushing away his breakfast, he briskly walked out of the Great Hall and into another misery-laden chapter of his life.


End file.
